


Fated to Pretend

by wittyremarks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Unrequired Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittyremarks/pseuds/wittyremarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis wakes up after an accident that’s scarred his life. He can’t remember much of the past three years; barely bits and pieces. But bits and pieces isn’t enough for Harry, who is completely heartbroken after discovering he is, perhaps, the only one Louis can’t remember at all. Everything they’ve shared, their love, their romance… Louis’s mind has blocked it all. What would you do if the love of your life woke up one day and didn’t recognize your face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. This will be a chaptered fic. I post it on tumblr as well but figured it'd be better to publish it here. I really hope you like it! So far 7 chapters and the prologue are out.
> 
> Tumblr:  
> hiyouarehere.tumblr.com

Harry had always been told that right before dying your past goes through your eyes. He’s heard that you’re supposed to see everything that you’ve done, everyone you’ve met - essentially anything or anyone that has made a great impression in your life - passing before your eyes until you are no longer there.

Beep.

Now, not that Harry had ever experienced such a thing before - he definitely hasn’t died nor even come close to death – but he was certain the odyssey he was going through right now could pretty much come up to par with dying – and that explained why now, under the beep beep beeps of the machine tied up to a sleepy boy in hospital gowns, he could see every single detail of the past two years that led up to that moment. He specifically saw that night; the night he sent everything to hell.

“You fucking know how I feel about this, Harry; this must be the umpteenth time we’ve discussed this.” Louis shouted, across from Harry. His face flushed with anger and his fist curled up in tight balls. 

“Is that so, Louis? Cause I feel I’m the only one around here who actually cares.” Harry exploded, hitting the dinner table with an open hand. That’s when Louis took several strides toward the taller lad and shoved him to the wall with such force; Harry knew it would ultimately leave a bump on the back of his head.

“Don’t you dare, Harry. Don’t you fucking dare imply I don’t care about this, about us.” Harry had never seen Louis this mad before, not even after all the pranks the lads had pulled on him or when he “accidentally” hit Eleanor with a bat after a jealousy attack. But at this point Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care how his words were undoubtedly hurting the shorter boy; he didn’t care he was acting like a kid. He wanted what he wanted; he wanted their freedom. Harry struggled to get Louis’ grip away but despite being shorter, the latter held him with such strength to the wall, any attempt to escape would be futile.

“Doesn’t seem like it” the dimply boy spat, not meeting Louis’s eyes and instead focused on balling his fists.

There was nothing Harry could do now to undo those words. As he recalled that night, he knew that’s what had made it. Those four little words unleashed a monster trapped deep in Louis’s chest. They started something that ended with Louis storming out and meeting his fate.

And fate was a wondrous thing, always leading people to such unbelievable events, and out of all the things that could happen that night, only bad ones came to Louis’s feet. 

“But it’s too late now, isn’t it?” Harry whispered to no one, eyes closed, right hand resting on Louis’s fragile palm. He wasn’t sure when Louis was bound to wake up. The doctors had assured them that they found no reason for Louis to be sunk in such a deep slumber. All the scans came out right. Louis was all right. That’s what Jay had reassured him as he stayed his days and nights sitting in that same chair, clutching Louis’s hand while nobody was looking. That’s what the doctors kept telling him whenever he asked about Louis’s condition. That’s what the lads texted him whenever they could. But Harry knew better. He had watched enough sappy movies to know miracles only happened precisely there… in movies.

Playing with Louis’s fingers became Harry’s favorite thing. It became something to keep his mind away from all the guilt that tried to consume him. But he had to be careful. Every time a fast nurse or a doctor, or even Jay and the boys, walked in he had to let go as fast as he could. And every time he let go of Louis’s hand and pretended he was only clutching the sheets, he was reminded of their fight and how much he had wanted their secret to be out. If he had known it was going to end up like this, he wouldn’t have tried. 

Suddenly something pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He could have sworn the fingers he had been holding for the past hour twitched. 

“Louis?” Harry breathed. As he not only felt, but now also saw how Louis tried to flex his fingers. “Louis? You’re waking up! You’re waking up!” Harry repeated once again, mostly to himself. Was he dreaming? Could this be a sick dream his mind was playing? It wasn’t. As Louis slowly opened his eyes and murmured incomprehensible things, the younger lad could feel the blood coming back to his brain. He grabbed Louis’s both hands and kissed them, not caring whether someone found them then and there sharing that moment. 

“I am so sorry, Louis. I am so sorry. I never wanna fight again. If you want to keep it a secret, then let’s keep it a secret, just don’t leave me. All of this is my fault, it’s my fault….” He couldn’t go on as some tears dared to make it through his cheeks. The rush of happiness and guilt that overcame Harry took him by surprise. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he kept kissing Louis’s hands, and until he reached his face.

But nothing in the world could prepare the curled haired boy for the next three words the older boy in hospital gowns would ask, as he shied away from his touch with the most sincere look of repulse Harry had ever seen.

“Who are you?”

Guess fate wasn’t really on Harry’s side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Harry remembers, Louis wakes up but forgets, and everyone's awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Would really appreciate feedback :)  
> tumblr: hiyouarehere.tumblr.com

“Who are you?” Louis’s feeble voice repeated again, his tone more urgent this time. He looked at his surroundings: all white, all sterile. Hospital, his brain chimed. “Am I in a hospital? Nurse! Nurse!” He shouted as loud as he could. It was a poor decision of his part; his voice faltered, raw and dry.

“Louis, stop playing, it’s not funny,” Harry said, his eyes focused on Louis’s completely dilated eyes. The younger boy figured if Louis were indeed playing, the blue orbs would give him away; but this wasn’t the case. Louis’s eyes were open wide in alert, blinking faster by the second. There was a look plastered on the bruised lad’s pale face that Harry had never seen before – at least not directed towards him. Fear, Harry’s brain suggested. It was fear. Louis Tomlinson was absolutely frightened of him.

“Louis, it’s me, Haz?” he tried again, this time softer as to not startle the lad.

Harry again tried to hold Louis’s shaky hands, but he only invigorated Louis’s trembles. The hospital bed Louis laid on shook forcibly, as he tried to separate himself as far as he could from the green eyed stranger that aggravated him so much.

Louis didn’t know how the boy in front of him knew his name or what he wanted, but he was absolutely sure he didn’t want to find out. “Nurse! Nurse!” Louis called one last time.

“Stop, Louis, stop,” Harry rose, approaching the bed. He was pleading. Louis needed to stop this sick joke right now.

Harry watched as Louis looked around for a panic button and reached out to press it. As he did so, the younger lad saw the deep purple bruises that interrupted Louis’s otherwise smooth skin. Harry didn’t have time to think whether the panic button worked or not—a nurse rushed in, alarmed by the patient’s call. She was startled to find one boy in bed, completely terrified, and another with his arms reaching out to the first boy. The next series of events happened in a blur: the nurse calling out security and several others approaching the room, determined to check Louis’s vitals. Harry never saw the security guard coming, but he surely felt him when he made a grab for his arm, pressing it hard.

“What are you doing to him?” Harry shouted as the guard struggled unsuccessfully to keep hold of him. He watched with wide eyes as another nurse scurried past him with a needle in her hand.

“What are you doing to him? Louis! Louis!”

“Take the boy out!” He heard one of them shout with such force that he stopped on his tracks. The security guard took the advantage and shoved him out of the room.

 

>>

 

He was sitting in the waiting room area when he first heard them.

“Do you reckon Louis will mind that I ate all of the sweets?” Niall’s unmistakable voice reverberated through the room, causing a few head turns and a “shhh” from a passing nurse.

“Shut it, Niall. We don’t want to get in more trouble as it is,” Liam said without losing a beat as they walked-run to the rooms’ corridor. “Not even Zayn’s charms will save you like last time.”

At the mention of his name, Zayn looked up from his mobile phone, obviously occupied typing away. “Hey!” he complained, “my looks can work charms. Oh, look, there’s Harry!” Zayn pointed to the mess of a boy that sat clutching a cold coffee cup.

He looked worse than they had last seen him. They all knew Harry had been the worst to take it. They didn’t know exactly why, but they all had their suspicions. If Harry had looked bad in the previous weeks, he was looking like absolute shit right now. His eyes were bright red, his lips chapped. His gaze was vacant, as he stared at really no one. His cheeks revealed a few tears that hadn’t yet to dry, with one daring to make its way to the younger boy’s chin. He just sipped his cold coffee. 

“Harry!” Liam exclaimed, earning another round of “shh’s”. “Is everything alright? Is he okay?”

“He’s just woken up… .Jay’s in there with him. They… wouldn’t…,” Harry’s voice broke as he tried holding in a sob that had been building up on his chest for the past hour. It hurt. It hurt more than anything Harry had ever felt. It hurt more than when his parents divorced, or more than when his sister moved away; there was absolutely nothing else in the world Harry could compare this haunting feeling to. 

“Harry, are you are okay? What happened? HARRY!” Liam exclaimed, taking a hold of the teary boy’s shoulders and shaking him.

“They wouldn’t let me in… not after what happened,” Harry breathed, barely audible.

“After what happened? What do you mean, mate?” chimed in Zayn, worry plastered on his face.

Right after this inquiry, a doctor in white robes approached them.

“Where is him, Doc? Everything alright?” Niall asked.

“If you boys would wait out for a couple more minutes, I’m sure your friend would like some privacy as we run some exams,” the doctor told them as he lead them to the closed door. Harry remained seated. He couldn’t bring himself to hear the truth. He reckoned that as long as he didn’t hear the doctor’s prognosis about Louis’s condition, it wasn’t real.

“The good news is your friend woke up today.”

Three of the boys erupted in cheer, yet the doctor’s face remained cold like stone, his eyes guilt-ridden for he didn’t know how to deliver the following news. News that would definitely put an end to the happy smiles he saw before him.

“I am afraid I’ve got some bad news as well,” he paused, clearly distressed, “Mr. Tomlinson – your friend – appears to suffer from some level of amnesia. I’m sorry.”

Just as he had predicted, one by one the smiles of the young men in front of him faltered, until there were no more teeth in display. They blinked and swallowed hard and fidgeted with their pockets – clearly unsure on to how react.

“He can’t remember anything at all?” Zayn broke the silence while the other two boys remained shell-shocked.

“Not exactly,” the doctor began, obviously uncomfortable to be the one delivering this news. “You see, after the accident, Mr. Tomlinson obviously suffered from severe head trauma. Now -after our extensive care - he has successfully recovered up to a hundred percent.”

“Not a hundred percent if he can’t fucking remember who we are,” a raw voiced said out of nowhere. The lads turned to see Harry leaning against the wall, eyes glaring. 

“He’s awake and breathing, isn’t he?” The doctor said impatiently. “Listen. I’m sure this must be hard for the four of you, but you should be glad that he even woke up at all. We’re bringing in our best amnesia specialist to work a few things out. Also, we’re setting your friend with a few meetings with the head of our physiology department. We are doing our best to ensure that he gets his memory back.” 

“What if your best is not enough?” Harry’s troubled voice could be heard again. “Can you swear to me he’s gonna get it back?” he said, prodding the doctor hard in the chest.

“Stop it, Harry, stop it.” Liam yelled, as Niall and Zayn held Harry back from the doctor.

“Yeah, man, just listen to what the doc’s got to say,” the Irish of the pack whispered, clearly struggling to keep a hold on Harry’s shoulders.

“It’s not uncommon for patients who’ve had this… kind of trauma to suffer from memory lost. Now, I hope you keep patient and know that we are working our best.” And with that, the doctor - clearly upset after Harry’s childish behavior – opened the door to let the four boys in. One by one, each One Direction member entered the room. They had been instructed to remain as calm as possible and to not be hurt if Louis’s didn’t remember them. Jay was sitting in the chair that had been Harry’s for the past few weeks now, clutching his son’s hands. Harry noticed how Louis wasn’t recoiling from her touch – as Louis had done with his. As the room became overcrowded, Louis held his mom’s hands tighter, as if it were his anchor. This gesture only managed to carve just another deep scar in Harry’s chest—he understood that Louis honestly didn’t recognize the four heads in front of him.

“Hey mate, how you feeling?” asked Zayn first, patting the older boy’s shoulder lightly. Louis eyes widened in alarm at the touch and turned to look at Jay, who only gave him a reassuring smile.

“H- Hi…” was all Louis could muster.

“What’s crackin’, Lou?” said Niall, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m sorry I ate your chocolates, by the way. Liam told me not to eat them but I had been here watching you for a full 15 minutes and I was so hungry and I was like, ‘You know what, Louis’s such a man he won’t mind it, yeah?’” 

“Oh, shut it, Niall. I doubt that’s worrying Louis right now,” cut in Liam, stepping up and extending his hand to Louis. “I’m Liam, by the way.” 

Harry remained silent in a corner of the room, not even daring to face Louis. What was the use in introducing himself to Louis yet again? They had already met. They had done the introductions. They had already become friend. Then best friends. They had become partners in crime and then intimates and ultimately, lovers. Lovers. And that was precisely what was breaking Harry’s heart right at this second. Knowing that the only boy he had ever loved – perhaps the person he had ever loved the most – clearly had no recollection of all the things they had promised to each other - of all the love between them. He couldn’t look up to Louis because all he would find were going to be vacant scared eyes. Not Louis’s eyes that shinned whenever he told a joke. Not Louis’s mouth that twitched whenever he found something inappropriate funny. Not Louis’s hands that used to map the contours of Harry’s body in the late night. The boy in front of him wasn’t Louis – no, it wasn’t his Louis. And you’re not his Harry either, Harry thought, trying his best not to let a small tear fall down his face. 

“Hi guys, I guess?” Louis’s uncertain voice brought the youngest boy back to reality.

“It’s all right, boo bear, these are your friends. You are very good friends, aren’t you, boys?” Jay suddenly asked directly to the boys, earning a snort from Harry.

“Yeah, buddie!” Niall chimed in, obviously the most unphased by this whole ordeal.

 

>>

 

The boys said their goodbyes, waving at a still confused Louis – who was obviously overwhelmed by all the information he had had to take in. Each of the boys had introduced themselves and told Louis a few funny stories involving them, assuring him that he’d remember all of these in no time. They hadn’t told them yet about the band, as instructed by the doctor.

“Well, that went all right, I s’pose” started Liam, trying to hold the fort for all of the boys and earning a snort from Harry.

“If you ignore Louis’s complete lack of recognition towards us, then yes, you could say this was fucking ace.”

“Oh stop it, Harry,” Liam replied shaking his head, “We just have to help him get there.”

“Help him get there?” Harry repeated, raising his voice.

“What? He seemed alright! It wasn’t as traumatic as I imagined it’d be,” Liam continued, obviously trying to lighten up the mood, “We just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see? He can’t remember us, Liam.” Harry said, his temper clearly getting out of hand. He couldn’t believe just how calmed his friends were. How could the three of them just stand there and pretend everything was fine. Was he the only one who truly missed Louis? He wasn’t. But h

“Don’t you understand that? He cannot remember who we are, the lyrics to our songs, nothing. What’s gonna happen to the band, ah, Liam?” Harry continued, prodding Liam hard on the chest. All of the hate that was contained deep in his chest poured out of his mouth as he glared at the three lads in front of him. “What’s gonna happen to me?!” Harry shouted, shoving them to the side to make a path for himself.

“But you should-“

“No, Liam, no. Don’t you fucking try to pretend like everything’s fine, cause absolutely nothing is.”

And with that, the curly boy shoved his friends – who had somehow crowded him – once again and stormed out of the place with tears in his eyes and a broken heart, hoping their car was already outside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when Louis' dreams don't really match reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say. Loved writing the beginning of this chapter! ;) Thoughts? Comments?

_There was a loud crash that reverberated through every corner of the apartment. Their apartment. He knew the noise would undoubtedly reach the ears of whoever laid on their soft cocoon of tangled sheets and pillows - and drool and love. He silently prayed that it wouldn’t be enough to wake him up._

_Him?_  

_He looked around, panicked, for a broom, as his bare feet jumped around the kitchen tiles, aiming for glass free zones. Now where was the damned broom? Maybe if he was careful and fast enough he could go on on his taskand still surprise him._

_Him? Her. Girl. No. Him._

_Louis had never been really fond of cooking. In fact,  you could say his only interaction with a kitchen beyond microwaves and refrigerators was perhaps whenever he had been in charge of babysitting his sisters and dinner had to be made - and even then Lottie came in to the rescue to ensure Louis didn’t burn the kitchen down._  

_But this time it was different. This time he wasn’t cooking to stop the whining of toddlers. This time it was special._

_It’s their anniversary; because just one year ago they had met, and it had changed Louis’s life completely. And fate had been kind and gentle, pairing him with this absolute gem. Someone who was kind and fun; someone who loved him for himself and understood his silly jokes. Someone who never took offense whenever Louis’s sarcasm got out of hand. Someone to lay down after a tiring day andshare a cup of tea in silence, touching each other’s bodies in a sea of endless kisses. Someone to love. And one aspect he surely couldn’t deny was one of his favorites - someone whose beautiful long hands were capable of delicious cooking._  

_But it had always been that someone who did the cooking, and Louis only happily ate, doing the dishes later. But today, the day of their two year anniversary, Louis wanted to give back absolutely everything that someone had given to him. So, he startedwith the simplest thing: breakfast in bed - or so he had thought._

_Finding the broom, he began to sweep quickly, cursing himself for being so damn clumsy. How difficult could an omelet really be? He had seen enough crappy cooking programs for crying out loud. Hadn’t his brain retained any of that?._

_The first hint that should have warned Louis about the approaching messwas when the salt shaker opened entirely on the bowl with the eggs, forcing him to start from scratch. But he hadn’t cared how many times he could be forced to start over - he was determined to bring a decent breakfast to that bed. Because whoever was in it - not that Louis would recall right now - plainly deserved it._

_“Lou, what are you doing?” He heard a groggy voice at the back of his neck just as he was about to reach another set of eggs. Damn it, he woke up._

_He?_

_Louis felt a soft touch caressing his back and long, strong arms locking on his hips from behind._

_“Go back to bed, please. I didn’t mean to wake you **,** ” Louis breathed, obviously surprised yet aroused by the touch._ 

 _“Were you trying to make me breakfast?” the voiced chuckled, nuzzling on his neck, leaving a trail of fire on Louis’s skin wherever the warmth of the tongue of this person reached him. Louis **’** s breathing hitched. Hesaid nothing, clearly defeated._ 

_“Lou, you know you cannot cook. For some reason I’m the one who feeds us,” thevoice moaned, this time their hands reaching the elastic of Louis’s bottoms while a small noise escaped Louis’s lips. But he said nothing. He had failed. As usual **,**  he had failed._

  _“Just come back to bed, Lou. We can make breakfast after a good bath, yeah?” the voice said again._

 _Louis smiled at the proposal. He knew it was their way of saying everything was alright. He decided that the longer he stayed in the kitchen, the more of a wreck he would makeand the more of amess he could make, so taking a bath with his favorite person seemed like a plausible, if not perfect, way to start their anniversary._  

_But when he turned around to face the source of the butterflies in his stomach, there was nothing. A gap. A black hole he couldn’t describe._

And that’s when Louis remembered he was dreaming, and that’s when he woke up covered in sweat from head to toe, with a strange feeling  **in** his belly, and an aching one down his pants.

 

>>

 

It was 10AM  and Louis was sitting uncomfortably ina doctor’s office, ready to begin his session with the amnesia specialist.

 

“I’ve explained this to your mum and to your friends, but I haven’t had time to discuss it openly and privately with you **,** ” Dr **.**  Hilson began. She was the head of the Amnesia Department of the St. Barton’s Hospital, where Louis still resided.  “I just want to know if you’ve got some questions about your condition, or any doubt at all, I’m here to help you get those little memories back, yeah?”

The doctor smiled, trying to ease some confidence into Louis. But Louis wasn’t a fool. He found the whole process of discussing with someone - who had no clue in on his life- what he remembered or didn’t to becompletely useless **.** So, he said nothing.

“Do you know what kind of amnesia you have?” Dr **.**  Hilson tried again **.** He didn’t respond. This wasn’t something she hadn’t seen before. In all the years she had been working in the amnesia department **,**  there had only been a handful of memory loss patients willing to talk to her. It was her job **,**  then, to gain their trust.

“Basically you’ve got what we call Retrograde Amnesia.  I could go on and on talking to you about it, but in essence it just means you’ve lost a chunk of memories because you hit your head really hard **,** ”she now chuckled, to which Louis responded with a glazed stare. “Obviously you’ve suffered some severe trauma that has repressed the past two years of your life.

“The good news is there is a huge percentage of patients with this kind of amnesia that get their memories back. It’s called spontaneous recovery. I’m pretty sure you will be among them.”

Louis snorted. Truth was, Louis didn’t care at all. He didn’t care about his memory loss  _because_ he couldn’t remember. His life had been perfectly fine as far as he remembered so he was sure that in plain old Doncaster, same old Louis Tomlinson couldn’t have missed a lot. Except now he had his mother forcing him to be friends with these four lads she shoved in front of him. Louis figured that if they had been such good friends as Jay had explained to him, he could have been able to remember them.

 

But deep inside, Louis knew this was only a big facade. This was what he told himself to avoid being drowned in a sea of confusion and sadness. He braved it out in front of everyone. He was used to it by now, being the only man in the household for a few years now. And here he was now. Sitting in a room in front of a stranger trying to probe inside his mind.

“Have you been experiencing any recurring dreams?” Dr. Hilson asked **,** typingaway on her iPad. 

Louis eyes widened. Could this doctor read his mind? Was it possible that she knew all along that Louis had had a very peculiar - and arousing **,**  to say the least - dream involving someone he wasn’t even sure was a boy or a girl?

 _Girl._ Louis gritted his teeth. It was a girl.

Dr. Hilson had noticed how her patient’s back straightened and how his eyes opened in panic. Jackpot. She knew just how hard this must have been hitting Louis Tomlinson, but she had dealt with enough patients to realize that unless pushed, they would show no results. She put down her glasses and stopped typing, eyes directly set on the man in front of her.

“Listen, Mr Tomlinson - Louis **—** I’m here to help you. I cannot ask the right questions and try to trigger some memory unless you help me and guide me through what’s going on in your mind” 

Louis sighed. He knew she was right.

“I had a dream, yeah,” he started, earning a nod from Dr. Hilson, “Several dreams, actually. I’m just not sure whether they’re real or just my imagination.”

“It’s very common among amnesia patients to have recurring dreams. They could be real memories, or they could be your brain trying to produce anything at all

“So you’re saying if my brain really wants to remember **,**  it could be able to just create fake memories?” Louis asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Louis. You’re very perceptive.” Thedoctor smiled. Maybe cracking Mr. Tomlinson wasn’t going to be so hard. 

“Well, that’s just fucking ace,” Louis said, dripping with sarcasm. Just what he needed. On top of forgetting memories, his brain was now making up shit.  

“That’s why I’m here for, Louis. To help you organize those memories. With the help of your friends **,**  and your mom **,** and everyone **,**  I’m pretty sure we can crack it up. Now, what was this dream that you were telling me about?” Dr Hilson asked, as she looked up from her notes and put on her glasses again.

Louis couldn’t reply. He couldn’t tell her that long hands had touched his hips and even dared to go further down his pants **; th** at just thinking about the sensation on his neck as a warm tongue probed against his skin could send all his blood flooding south. This was something Louis was going to work on his own.  So he opted for saying what he knew could always pull him out of danger.

“I don’t remember now. My head is hurting, I’d like to lay down **,** ” he said apologetically, closing his eyes and holding his temples in an effort to fool the doctor. Dr. Hilson sighed, letting him go, not fooled at all by the cheap drama Louis was trying to pull.

He was then escorted to his room by a chatty nurse who couldn’t seem to stop singing some little tune that Louis found annoying. Something about not knowing you were beautiful or some nonsense of the like, probably another catchy - but shitty - Justin Bieber song. The nurse obviously was putting a lot of effort into the song, raising her voice here and then, probably trying to engage Louis into singing along with her, but Louis wasn’t in the mood for singing. Last night’s dream still went through the stripedshirt lad **.** There was nothing he could do to stop  **it** from coming back to it. Who had been this stranger that could easily grab hold of his emotions and attention like this?

Did he have a girlfriend? He last girlfriend he remembered having was Hannah, and it had been long since they had parted ways in a friendly manner, so he was absolutely sure it couldn’t have been her. _Besides, those hands didn’t belong to a girl,_ Louis’s brain spat at him. He ignored it. The nurse let him to his door and he opened slowly, surprised to find his mother inside.

“Louis,” Jay stood up from where she had been talking to some girl Louis didn’t recognize, and hugged him. He stood shocked, keeping his arms stiffly to his sides.“I’m so glad you’re here” 

“Hi **,** Mum,” was all that Louis said, carefully trying not to rip out the tubes that were still connected to his arms as he made his way to the bed. He sat then, facing directly his mom and the girl. He then studied her. She had a fairly even skin and wavy auburn hair. Her almond shaped eyes were a deep shade of brown -they could be mistaken for chocolate, really. Louis found her pretty. Attractive **,**  even. But there was something else in the back of his brain that prickled when he saw her. Something about her was peculiar **.** He knew he must have known her.

“Louis, there’s someone who’s been wanting to see you **,** ” Jay started, carefully choosing her words. “Someone you should meet. But I think I’m gonna leave you you two alone.” At this news, the pretty brunette’s eyes widened in panic as she shifted in her seat.

“Jay, I’m sure it’s best if you stay and explain, I don’t think-“  

“Nonsense,”  **i** nterrupted Jay, “you two have a lovely chat while I go and fetch the girls.” And with that **,**  she left **,** and a palpable tension and awkwardness replaced her.

The girl in front of his eyes began to fiddle with her short, knitteddress. Louis could tell she was beyond nervous.

“I’m sorry, I don’t meant to be rude, but who are you?” he asked, head cocked to the side.

“It’s Eleanor, Louis. You really don’t remember, do you?” she asked with trembling hands.

“I really wish I did, Eleanor. I’m guessing we knew each other, are we friends or….?”

“More than that, actually…” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Were we… are you saying, we were together? As in a couple? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” Louis asked, clearly embarrassed of being in such a position. How could it be that he couldn’t remember the girl he had been with for the past year? Except this meant, this meant the person  **in** his dream must have been Eleanor. Relief came flooding to this system as he realized it had been her. A girl. His girlfriend. No boys.

 

Eleanor only nodded, not meeting his eyes.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” He said, awkwardly grabbing her hands. “I really wish I could remember **,**  but it’s nothing personal. I’m sure I loved you **,**  yeah? I mean, were we - did I, did I love you?” Louis said, in a low voice. He looked up at the ceiling, hopingthis question wouldn’t sadden Eleanor even more.

Eleanor looked up to Louis eyes, cherishing his touch on her hands. Louis had never been that affectionate with her, ever. She saw how Liam and Danielle acted around each other, how their smiles reached their eyes and their laughs shook their bellies. But she never saw this in Louis. She figured Louis’s love was different. Sometimes she was so sure of what they had - the way he let her stay in his stripy shirts when she stayed over, the way he tickled her with little kisses, the way he held her hand whenever they were walking down the street - but then she saw Danielle and Liam and she couldn’t deny something was missing. There was a spark Louis was missing. And it had become more evidentas time passed **,** as One Direction grew bigger, as Louis and Eleanor were kept apart for longer periods of times.

She could see it in the pictures they took together. Louis’s smile was barely a ghost. It never reached his eyes. During interviews and concerts **,**  she could see how alive Louis felt, how happy he was cracking jokes with Harry. Or talking on the phone with Harry, or texting with Harry, or Skyping with Harry. Harry was precisely another little problem she kept pushing to the back of her mind. But that night, that fateful night everything was sent to hell, that little problem came up to the surface ready to bite her down. She remembered that night down to the seconds. She had been furious. She wanted to deny what she already knew. No, she wanted him to tell her she was wrong. But he wasn’t denying it. He was upset **,**  too **—** more than upset **;**  he looked beaten, tired, surrendered.

If only she had kept her mouth shut **,**  perhaps none of this would have happened. Perhaps Louis wouldn’t have slammed her door with this car keys in hand, ready to hit the streets.

 “I love you,” she whispered, holding his hands and cutting the distance between them to land a feather kiss on her boy’s lips.  

Maybe this was the opportunity she had been praying for so long. This was her chance to redo everything - to start with a clean slate. This could be her chance to prove Louis Tomlinson just how much love she had to give, and how good she could be. This was exactly what they needed. She only hoped she could do it right this time around.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One broken promise and one awkward encounter.

The last thing Harry Styles needed right now was other people’s problems and complaints. He had enough of his own as it was - he surely didn’t need to add more to the queue. Especially not when these “so called problems” were as idiotic and trivial as the ones he was scrolling through:

 

> @Harrysgravy sigh i should give up cause i know harry will never notice me :/

 

> @chrissyloveshazza Just lost my 1D bracelets. Feeling so stupid right now argh.

 

He had gotten on Twitter that morning for the mere search of entertainment, he wanted—no, he needed—something to take his mind off the dramatic and pathetic turn his life had taken. He sighed heavily as he read here and there a few tweets that popped on his timeline:

 

> @1Dlov1ngALLnight got grounded cos i stayed up all night listenin to ur cd :( a RT wud make me happy!! @zaymalik @Harry_Styles @Real_Liam_Payne

 

> @HazzaBoo1Dxx @Harry_Styles HARRY PLS FOLLOW ME :( :( :(

 

> @1Dbiebs4evar if @Harry_Styles doesn’t follow me I WILL CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP

 

He regretted getting on at all.

 

Did his fans really believe that their little pathetic moans would catch his attention Couldn’t they see that while they were begging for a retweet or a follow - or just being plain annoying -Louis was laying on a hospital bed? Not that the fact that Louis memory was missing had been allowed to the public, but they surely knew he was in the hospital at the moment. Was there anything more important than that?

 

He was getting more frustrated by the second until his anger took the best of him. He harshly closed his silver Macbook Pro’s screen and tossed it to the other side of the bed.  _Louis’s side_ ,his brain chimed in, deflating his mood even further. He looked around the poorly lit room with a disgusted face. It was a mess, and the worst thing was, it wasn’t even his mess.

 

Between the two of them, Louis had always been the messiest one. While Harry’s side of the bed was always pristine and put, Louis’s was a tangle of sheets and specked with mysterious crumbs; no matter how many times Harry had insisted Louis to clean, Louis’s mess remained intact. The floor was scattered with the older lad’s endless collection of Toms, and all of his braces dangled from a chair in a tight knot; Harry’s Chuck Taylors and boots were carefully aligned in their walk in closet. Random shirts and colored pants - even ridiculous wigs - were scattered across the floor, along with the many nerf guns Louis had brought home from their tours.

 

But the worst part of the room wasn’t the mess. It wasn’t the open, disheveled drawers; or the random, dirty boxers that hid in the corners; or even that smell. The worst was that this had been their room, and Harry didn’t want anyone to touch. He couldn’t bring himself to clean and wash Louis’s clothes, to close the drawers, or to gather the toys. This was the last bit of his relationship with Louis that remained put. This was the proof that the past couple of years had been real - that he and Louis had been indeed a couple. This was their nest. How could he get rid of it? He couldn’t. But right now, mad as he was with everything and everyone, he stood up annoyingly, stubbing his toe on the bedside table. Doing so, tripped with a loose brace that was directly under the bed and fell to the floor, cursing as he went down.

 

And that’s when he saw it. The braces he had tripped on were the ones one cheeky fan had once gifted them. They had his face and Louis’s repeated over and over alongside with the word “Larry” in all sizes and colors. As ridiculous as it was it was, by far, Harry’s favorite, and that’s why a knowing Louis always insisted on wearing it over his shirtless chest whenever they fucked. Harry could feel the blood in his system go down, as he growled at the memory of the last time they had done it. It hadn’t been many days before their big fight. In fact, Harry had recorded it in his memory as one of their best fucks ever.

But the thing that was tugging in the back of his brain wasn’t really the fantastic - but equally difficult - new position they had managed to do that night, or the way Louis let him get inside of him without a condom—no. It was the conversation they had had afterwards.

 

_“For how long do you reckon this One Direction thing will live on?” Louis was the first to speak. Covered in sweat and exhausted as they were, Harry had been surprised the older lad had asked a question like this. Deep pillow talk, it was._

 

_“What do you mean?” Harry managed to say, still recovering from the way his body had collapsed inside of Louis’s._

 

_“I mean, for how long we’ll stay together as a band? How many records you think we’ll record? Will we grow old like Take That?” Louis continued, now turning to face Harry, propping his head on his hand, and looking down on the green eyed boy._

 

_“Louis, shut up. Let me go to sleep, I’m tired,” Harry moaned, closing his eyes and pouting. Where did all this talk come from?_

 

_“No, Harry listen,” Louis, insisted, shaking Harry’s arms lightly. “What I’m coming from is, after this gig is over, what will happen to us?” His body shifted. “To you and me, I mean,” Louis said softly. Harry opened his eyes and found a very troubled look plastered on the blue eyes that were looking back at him. It suddenly hit Harry. Louis was worried about them breaking up.  He sighed and considered it for a long time - so long in fact that Louis’s heart was about to come out of his mouth._

 

_“Lou, I’m not with you only because we’re in a band. You know this, right?” Harry said, straightening himself up, looking directly into the eyes of the boy in front of him. “Even when it ends, we’ll still be together no matter what.”_

 

_“I know I wouldn’t be able to forget you, curly,” Louis said playfully as he shook Harry’s curls with his free hand, “Even after you become this super famous solo singer and leave me for months on tour.” He was clearly trying to lighten up the mood, but his serious eyes betrayed him._

 

_“Oh shut it, Lou,” Harry said, shoving him lightly. “I love you too much for that to happen. It’ll always be us and just us.”_

 

_“Promise?” Louis asked, searching for reassurance in his boyfriend’s eyes._

 

_“Promise, loon. Now can we please just sleep, yeah? We’ve got that interview tomorrow and you know how Simon gets every time we get late,” he finished, turning to turn their lamp off and snuggling closer to Louis._

 

_“I’ll hold onto that, Styles,” was the last thing he remembered Louis saying._

 

And that’s when it hit Harry. He had promised Louis it was always going to be them. Through thick and thin, right? Yet right now he was only making this about himself. He hadn’t stopped to think just how bad it must have been for Louis too - what with his brain wiping two years of his life. Harry had to make it right. He couldn’t abandon Louis when Louis needed him the most. His hope was lifted, skyrocketing. He hoped that  _his_ Louis was still somewhere inside that nebulous mess of a head.  

 

>>

 

Harry didn’t usually count on life. Even though it had brought him success with a band and a boyfriend, there was something particular about it: it still found a way to beat everyone to the punch. Maybe it was karma; whatever it was, it was tricky. It was unpredictable and fishy. The moment one thinks he has figured everything out, life oscillates and all plans are rendered useless

 

Life was indeed one step ahead Harry’s game as he walked hurriedly through the corridors of the hospital. He had never been this impatient and it was showing: he carelessly drummed his fingers to the beat of a repetitive tune as he waited for elevator doors to open; he rearranged his beanie over and over and popped his knuckles.

 

As he did so, strongly gripping louis’s favorite chocolate bar he couldn’t stop the smile that was plastered on his face. He thought how everyone around him must have been thinking he was a complete loon, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but Louis; nothing else mattered but them. As long as one of them could remember every caress, every touch, every kiss and every moan, their love would hold strong.

 

Much to the green eyed boy’s surprise, he was informed by an apologetic nurse that Louis, in fact, had company, and was advised to wait outside. Except Harry never waited for anything. He definitely wasn’t planning on starting now, especially when it came to Louis. He was ready to make this better, and it needed to be done right then. Ignoring the nurse’s request, he walked to Louis’s room. The sound of a female voice coming from inside it should have warned Harry that something definitely wasn’t right. Perhaps even the knowing look the nurse had given him should have probed his curiosity - but it didn’t, as usual. Nothing did.

 

His heart beat faster as he silently opened the door, hoping that whoever was on the other end had the courtesy to leave the two the fuck alone. Harry was determined. He genuinely believed that everything could be fixed - except fate had something completely different in store for the young lad.  He hadn’t even opened the door completely when he saw them.

 

A gentle mane of auburn hair slightly leaned against Louis’s bed, both of their eyes closed, lips pressed. Harry felt as if someone had taken a punch to his stomach. The smile that had been a forceful occupant on his face left as fast as it had come - all air of his lungs evaporating as he closed the door as fast as he could. He felt dizzy, disoriented. He let himself slide down to the floor where he sat, his head bowed down, defeated.

 

It wasn’t long before the sound of a doorknob interrupted him from his wallowing and alerted him that Eleanor was coming out. He stood up in a flash, and, on his way, bumped into her.

 

The tension radiating from Harry’s body was palpable.

 

“H- hell- hi, Harry,” Eleanor stuttered. She clearly hadn’t been ready to bump into Harry - not after all the nights she’d stayed up tossing and turning, conflicted about the relationship between her boyfriend and the curly boy in front of her.

 

“Eleanor,” Harry managed to get out. All the jealousy and hate that had been building up inside him the past couple of months - hell, since the first moment Louis and El had gotten together - threatened to pour out. He curled his fists fiercely as he tried to control himself from punching the wall. How was it possible that Louis couldn’t remember  _him_  but could remember  _her?_  There was absolutely no way, Harry thought, Eleanor could, or ever was, the most important thing in Louis’s life.

 

How could Louis retreat from his touch and then accept Eleanor’s so easily?

 

On the other hand, Eleanor didn’t know just how much Harry  _actually_ knew about the night of Louis’s accident. Her fight with Louis hadn’t left her any time to ask many questions. Did Harry know that Louis had gone to her place that night before setting himself up for danger? Was Harry aware that she had been the true reason of Louis’s rage that had ultimately led him to the accident? If the look on the curly boy that stood in front of her was any indication, he did.

 

Except, the police hadn’t asked her any inquiring questions at all, nothing out of the ordinary. Harry hadn’t come to her door asking for answers either - neither had Jay, management, nor any of the boys.  So was she really safe? Yes. She was now positive - or, at least, she hoped- that Harry didn’t know about what had happened.  

 

“You came to see Louis?” She asked with a sudden burst of confidence, trying as she could to smile. “Oh, that’s a silly question—of course you are. Are you alone? Are the boys with you?” Eleanor couldn’t stop her rambling. She was nervous, Harry noted, except he couldn’t wrap his head around why she would be. She should have been boasting with happiness over the fact that his pretty little boyfriend remembered her. 

“Such a shame he can’t remember anything, right?” She asked, trying her best not to let guilt show in her voice. Harry knew what Eleanor was trying to do, but he surely didn’t have time for small talk, especially small talk with  _her._

 

“He surely remembers you,” Harry breathed, turning away from her and opening the door to Louis’s room, leaving a confused Eleanor to herself.

 

“Oh, hey,” a startled Louis said, closing a book he had been reading. “Ever heard of knocking?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations that had to happen and one friendship reestablished.

Louis had always heard that the course of true love never ran smoothly. He’d been told that once found, your heart surrenders completely to the new feeling in such a powerful way that it knocks you off your feet, sucks the air right out of your lungs; that any other lover you’ve ever had, everything you think you’ve ever loved, is eclipsed; and your heart calls for neither anyone nor anything else but that true love.

Now, it wasn’t as though Louis had ever experienced such a deep emotion—as far as he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t the case that he hadn’t ever loved before—he had really loved Hannah. If anything, she had surely been a close call, a very close call, to being his true love. But in the end, he hadn’t been completely swept off his feet, and he became certain he hadn’t found his so called “true love”. That explained why now—two forgotten years later—after finding out this pretty brunette apparently had a place in his life, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she was what he had been looking for.  
  
Everything she had said and shown had made a pretty convincing case. If he took Eleanor’s words into consideration, he could come to the conclusion that perhaps Eleanor was as closest as he had to true love. Except, something wasn’t adding up, and it wasn’t the pictures or the stories.   
  
Searching for a clue for the raw emptiness he felt in the pit of his stomach, Louis grabbed the pictures of them Eleanor had left on his bedside table. He found it. His own pair of cerulean eyes stared back at him. It was as if they looked straight through him. They were vacant.

Why had he let her kiss him? She was practically a stranger, but why did it feel weird to kiss her? She was a girl, a pretty girl all in all. He had kissed several girls before - mostly drunk - but liked it nonetheless. So why was it that when her rosy lips touched his, he couldn’t  find any feeling within himself that could reciprocate hers? It scared him. He tried reassuring himself: he had lost his memories, so she was a stranger after all. It had to be that. 

  
He was ready to resume a book he had meant to read, an escape from his troubled thoughts, until someone strolled into his room unannounced.  The sight of a bopping curly mane and a pair of deep jade, worried eyes pulled his gaze away from the pages. The sudden feeling that took over the pit of his stomach immensely overwhelmed him. But, as fast as it came, Louis fell out of his trance and was ready to offer the boy a snappy greeting.    
  
“Oh, hey,” Louis said, closing the book. “Ever heard of knocking?” A mere sarcasm coated his words, and he cocked his head and raised one eyebrow expectantly.   
  
“Sorry I… I’m sorry,” said the visitor turning around to leave the room. “I just figured since Eleanor had been here before—it was alright—I didn’t meant to—”  
  
“Oh, stop, it’s alright. Turn around for god’s sake,”  Louis chuckled, clearly enjoying Harry’s embarrassment.  “Henry, isn’t it?” Louis asked with a smirk.  
  
“Harry,” the lad corrected, balling his fits to the side while trying to hold his composure.   
  
“Just look at you,” a deep laugh escaped Louis’s lips. “Just messing with ya,” Louis said, a bemused expression plastered on his face. Harry definitely needed to chill.   
  
“So…like… how are you feeling?” Harry ventured, sitting down on the chair next to the bed.  
  
“Yeah, as good as you can be when you’ve forgotten half your life,” Louis retorted quickly. “But yeah, I’m fine. Just really wanna get out of here, I’m bored to death,” He rolled his eyes.  
  
“Do you know when you’re getting discharged?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t had much time to wonder about this matter. He certainly hadn’t stopped to think what could happen to Louis after he was released from the Hospital. Would Jay make him stay back in Doncaster until he fully recovered, or would he go back to their apartment in London?   
  
“Yeah, either tomorrow or the day after. Won’t have to wait long,” Louis said, noticeably excited and pleased about the idea of leaving the confinement of the four walls of his hospital bedroom.   
  
Harry held his gaze to the floor, seemingly counting the tiles. This wasn’t going as he had planned. The silence overtook the room, until nothing could be heard but the sound of a few birds outside the window.  
  
“So, apparently, I have a girlfriend,” Louis started, looking up to meet Harry’s startled gaze while pulling at the spare strings of his blanket, desperately looking for something to talk about.  
  
“Yeah…?” Harry nodded. He didn’t understand—he knew Louis had a girlfriend, and now wasn’t the moment for him to rub it in.  
  
“She’s pretty fit, actually,” Louis continued, suddenly averting Harry’s eyes. He hadn’t expected the tinge of rudeness, of awkwardness, Harry suddenly seemed to carry. “I mean, she was all right—”  
  
“Yeah?” Harry replied again, weakly. The left corner of his mouth curled and he slightly tilted his head upward. “I bet she was.”  
  
“I mean, I thought it’d be awkward… not remember her and all, but she really wants to get things back to where they were,”  Louis continued, still fumbling with his blanket.  
  
“You don’t remember her?” He croaked, his voice coming out all wrong, causing him to cough into his hand to straighten himself. He felt the weight of boulders leave his shoulders as he analyzed the fresh news.  
  
“That’s what I just said, Harry.” Louis snapped back, Harry’s persistent lack of attention annoying him.

  
But Louis’s snappy comebacks weren’t enough to burst Harry’s bubble. Harry’s own doubts, however, were. A million thoughts then ran through his mind, eclipsing the easiness he had felt only moments ago. If it was true that Louis didn’t remember Eleanor, how come they had kissed just minutes ago?  
  
Silence stretched once again, tensing the atmosphere. Yet again, Louis felt compelled to break it. He could see the boy in front of him was uncomfortable. His lips kept moving as if they were whispering, murmuring, yet nothing came out of them. Harry’s expression almost resembled a mad man: the wide open eyes, tongue sliding slightly out of his mouth. Louis was creeped out. So why did he feel the need to continue with the pointless conversation?   
  
“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” He tried, a fleeting smile etched on his lips. As good of an observer as he was, nothing escaped his little eye: He had noticed a bulge in Harry’s pants. Like a tent, he thought, smirking inwardly. Not that he had been purposely looking at the younger man’s crotch.  
  
Harry’s green eyes widened in terror. With every passing second he could feel the heat rushing through his neck and spreading to his cheeks, until eventually it colored his whole face scarlet. He didn’t want to look down in fear of realizing he had let his mind wander a little too far.   
  
“Harry, relax,” Louis started with burrowed eyes putting his palms up, as if offering peace.  “I literally mean your pocket. You’ve got a big bulge there, so unless your phone is from Y2K…”  
  
“Oh!” Harry released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Of course he meant the chocolate bar. “It’s actually something for you,” he mumbled, embarrassed.  
  
“For me?” Louis eyebrows shot up, yet the young lad in front of him didn’t move. “So?” Louis tried again, shuffling his legs under the sheets.  
  
“Right, sorry—here,” the younger boy said, pulling the chocolate bar out of the front pocket of his dark jeans.   
  
“Posh,” Louis smirked as Harry fiddled with its glossy cover before offering it to Louis.   
  
The sight of it made Louis smile widely.   
  
“How did you know this was my favorite?” Louis exclaimed. He was sick of the tasteless hospital food: the same stale bread with the same bland marmalade; the boiled chicken breast and the flavorless cup of fruits. But if there was anything he hated the most, it was the baby carrots they insisted on having him eat every single day. God, how he hated those carrots. It wasn’t like his mum or the other boys never got him anything - they often came with sweets and crisps for Louis to indulge on, but oddly enough no one had managed to bring him his favorite among favorites. Except this curly haired boy with green, green eyes that stood in front of him with his hand stretched out.  
  
“You told me yourself, Lou,” Harry replied with a faint smile until he realized the mistake he had made. “I mean, Louis! I’m sorry- I’m just- I’m used to calling you Lou, yeah.”  
  
“Right. It’s fine. I think Louis will do for now,” Louis said, tilting his head and wrinkling his eyes at Harry. He turned away quickly to start munching happily before Harry could make anything of it.   
  
“Why did you bring it to me, though?”   
  
Harry wanted to smile at the sight. Louis could have forgotten the past two years but he was definitely still Louis—the Louis that ate with this mouth open and wasn’t afraid to talk while munching.  
  
“To apologize for, er… basically… about the other day—”  
  
“No, stop, Harry.”   
  
Harry interrupted Louis,   
  
“No, no Lou—I mean, Louis—listen. I’m sorry about that, I know it must have been pretty awkward for you but—” Louis tried to interrupt Harry again, yet the latter raised his hand to stop him.  
  
“I thought you were joking. We-” Harry gulped, trying to regain composure, “that night, we had a disagreement, so we weren’t on the best terms. I figured you were joking to get back at me.” He rapidly fixed his hair, tugging it a little at the ends, and sighed. “A part of me also couldn’t believe you didn’t remember me…” He trailed off, unable to finish.   
  
Louis was moved by Harry’s display of sincerity, and was determined to ease the young lad’s conscience.    
  
“Honestly, Haz, it’s fine. I know it must have been just as bad for you as it was for me, so it’s all good.” Louis shrugged, dismissing any trail of importance to the previous events.  
  
“Haz?” Harry echoed the nickname Louis himself had once penned for him.   
  
“Yeah, um, sorry,” Louis excused himself, perhaps for the first time, Harry noted. “I just figured since you have a nickname for me… I could give you one.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened again at the sight of  Louis blushing.   
  
“You used to call me that before; you even came up with it,” Harry said in a rush.  
  
Scarlet ran all the way through Louis’s neck to his cheeks. The younger boy sighed, entranced by the sight. How he wished to be able to touch that face and kiss that neck—no, he would suck on that neck and reclaim his territory and then he’d climb on top of Louis and they’d grind while Louis would run his hands through his curly hair and—  
  
Suddenly, the sound of Louis’s coughs brought him back to reality.   
  
“Sorry, got a bit distracted.” Harry said, blinking rapidly, trying to make those thoughts clouding his mind evaporate. “What did you say?”   
  
Louis looked back at him with narrowed shifty eyes, obviously conscious of Harry’s wandering mind.  
  
“I was just saying,” he repeated slowly, eyeing Harry to make sure he was listening this time, “We were obviously good mates from what Mum’s been telling me, and she mentioned we’re even sharing a flat in London?”  
  
Harry only nodded, not catching on where the conversation was going.   
  
“That’s brilliant!” Louis exclaimed clasping his hands together, pleased with Harry’s confirmation. He hadn’t believed Jay when she had casually mentioned Louis didn’t live in Doncaster anymore. He would have believed her if it hadn’t been for the fact that he apparently had moved to nowhere else but London. What could he have been doing that made him move to the city? More importantly, how could he afford it? The green eyed boy in front of him definitely seemed well off, and Louis could swear he was sporting designer jeans by the way they perfectly hugged his ass — no, no. So, did it mean that Harry was paying their rent?   
  
“Is it big? I’ve always liked them big,” Louis continued with eager eyes, considering whether to shake up Harry, who was now staring back with a smirk, strikingly amused by what he had just heard.   
  
Jay hadn’t told Louis much about the flat. In fact, since bringing it up, she had dodged all the questions Louis had thrown at her about it. She wouldn’t tell him the address, whether it had a nice view, or even the color of the walls.  
  
“So, friends… again?” Louis said one more time holding out his hand to Harry who was now looking at it determinedly.   
  
Friends. That word cut right through Harry’s heart. His mind pondered momentarily on that word, wondering if they had ever really been just friends before.   
  
Since the moment they had met back in The X Factor it was obvious they shared something more than a mere friendship. They had instantly clicked, pairing up for everything and anything. It wasn’t long until everyone around them started to notice as well, and after being put together in the same band, the relentless teasing began. Soon the teasing and the meaningless flirting and innocent touches evolved into something more - something real.   
  
Harry could feel it whenever Louis absent-mindedly reached for his hand, refusing to let go whether they were cameras around or not; or whenever the older lad looked directly into his green eyes with such a longing that provoked dozens of new feelings completely alien to the dimpled boy.  
  
This was precisely what Harry needed the most—Louis’s soft palms delicately marking a trail down his chest, lighting a path wherever they touched; Louis nibbling his neck, warm breath hitting the soft spots of his back and sending shivers down his spine. But that was then, and this was now. Getting Louis back wasn’t going to be easy, but Harry knew he had to start somewhere.  
  
“Friends,” Harry echoed as he quickly grasped Louis’s right hand with his own, smiling lightly. He hoped there was still a way to turn things around.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, feedback and comments and messages are always welcomed :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when Louis returns home and finds out the truth.

**LOUIS TOMLINSON RETURNS HOME  
  
** _Here at sugarscape we know you’ve been dying to know whether the glorious bum of 1D’s Louis Tomlinson is still intact! The fact that Harry Styles hasn’t drowned in his own tears are beyond confirmation that Luigi is on his way to recovery._  
  
 _It’s been a few days now since the Tommo reportedly woke up from his coma and we’ve already seen the likes of Mummy Jay, his One Direction mates, Simon Cowell and even girlfriend Eleanor Calder pop up to check in the poor lad._  
  
 _Be alert sugarscapers ‘cause rumor has it Louis is bound to return home in the next couple of days! (Maybe it’s time to camp out outside their flat, no? Only us thinking this?)_  
  
 _Meanwhile we sure hope El and Haz don’t break into a fight on deciding who sponge baths  Louis. Not without us, anyway._ ****  
  
  
»  
  
The inevitable day came when Louis was finally discharged from the hospital. Although this was seemingly good news, there was one complicated issue that came along with it: getting Louis home.  
  
This would have been an easy task if it weren’t for the fact that apparently every single paparazzi in London had been alerted that the first after-the-accident pictures of the tanned boy were worth gold. Every magazine coveted attention-grabbing cover stories, and news about Louis’s recovery would sure draw  teenage girls’ eyes to the headlines and their parents fingers into their wallets.  
  
Louis had never had any problems with paparazzi in the past. In fact, he and Liam had made up a little twitter game of “pap of the week”, so it wasn’t as if dozens of flash lights could harm him. Yes, Louis’s homecoming couldn’t turn that bad, except he still hadn’t been told that for the past two years he’d been a member of the British boyband. Harry was itching to tell him ever since Louis woke up but, as usual, management had vetoed the idea to tell him straight away; they used the dried out excuse of letting Louis acclimate to the new changes in his life before they “start making the necessary arrangement to integrate Louis back to the group”  (Harry called this bullshit, of course).    
  
So yes, the idea of a clueless Louis walking into their apartment while a mob of people chanted his name and asked him about the band and his accident was a big, fat no. That was exactly why their management, along with Jay and the boys, concocted a plan to distract the vultures that awaited them at the Stylinson residence.    
  
This planned involved a grumpy Zayn, a sleepy Niall and a happy Liam sitting at 7 in the morning in Radio 1 Station.  
  
“Good day, everybody, you’re listening to Radio 1. This is Nick Grimshaw with you, as always. How are you all in this lovely morning? First sunny day out in London since forever! Hope to see birds showing off legs, yeah? Meanwhile there’s three lads who decided to get down to the studio today to hang. Think you guys know who I’m talking about. Boys?”  
  
“Yes, good morning, everyone!” Liam smiled to the microphone, the only one out of the three that was fully awake and cheery.   
  
“Hi, everyone!” a thick irish accent broke out next. Niall suppressed a yawn after Liam’s reprimanding eyes found his. The blonde boy could almost hear him saying, “Told you so. Shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night!”. Niall couldn’t be bothered as he felt another oncoming yawn.  
  
“Vas happenin?,” Zayn managed to mumble right before yawning for perhaps the 100th time since they woke up. He rested his head on his hand, trying hard not to let his eyelids touch each other. He wasn’t cut out for mornings.   
  
“I probably don’t even have to introduce these blokes, bet everyone’s tired of having their bums around,” Nick joked, playfully shoving by the arm a sleepy Zayn trying to wake him up. “I know I am,” he said, earning himself a “heyyyy!” from Niall and a shove from Zayn.  
  
“I kid, I kid!” he whined, palms up in surrender, “Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you, never try to wake up Zayn Malik or he’ll kick your arse!”   
  
“I told the boys last night to go to bed early, but you know, Nick, they never listen to me,” Liam said with a hint of annoyance. Even if he was looking at the other two with disappointed eyes, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up, confirming that he was only teasing.   
  
“These lads must be a handful, aye, Liam?” Nick asked, amused by their exchange. “I wonder what they do stay up all night doing, maybe going all the way?” He mused, choking in his own laugh.   
  
The cheeky remark brought Zayn back from his slumber, for his eyes opened wide and he laughed into the microphone. “No, no, we’re good boys. Just long FIFA match with the lads. Right, Niall?”  
  
The Irish boy was in on the joke, laughing hard until his cheeks blared red and clapping his hands. It didn’t take two to realize this wasn’t what had happened the previous night. “Yes, we’re very good boys!” He managed to say, still laughing. “Liam is always discrediting us!”   
  
“That’s not true at all!” Liam interrupted, faking offense for the sake of banter.  
  
“Right, boys, enough. I’m sure we’ll have more time to discuss your late night rendezvous later.” Nick knowingly winked at Zayn, who flipped him off, chuckling to himself.  “Now, we all know Louis woke up a week ago or so. How’s he doing?”  
  
This was what they had come for, to trick their fans. Now, in the words of their management, they weren’t exactly tricking them, but rather “creating a diversion”. They claimed a radio show would surely make the paparazzi and crazy fans leave their spots at their flat and move to BBC 1 headquarters to see whether Louis appeared at said show. In reality, Jay, Louis, Harry and loads of security guards were to be on the move to ensure Louis was safely deposited back home.  
  
“Yes! We aren’t a hundred percent sure when he’s getting discharged,” Liam started. He always felt guilty feeding these lies to the fans, so he always tried to stick with the truth as much he could. They weren’t, indeed, a hundred percent sure Louis was going home that day; for all they knew, a meteor could fall from space right outside the hospital, preventing his exit. “But it’s bound to happen soon. Louis’s pretty recovered by now. We’re so glad he’s fine,” Liam finished with a sincere smile. The other boys nodded in agreement.   
  
“Yeah, we can’t wait till he’s back on track with us,” Zayn added distressed. He surely missed his partner in crime.   
  
»  
  
  
Louis didn’t understand why everyone was making such a “big fucking deal” out of this. It wasn’t as if he was being deported to Iraq—he was just going home.   
  
The moment his mum walked through his door of his department he knew something was off. Jay couldn’t stop pacing up and down his room.    
  
“What are you doing here?” Louis sniped.   
  
Harry’s eyebrows rose up in mild surprise.   
  
“Jay didn’t tell you I was coming to help you get back home? You lost your key after all…” He trailed off, shrugging. He approached Louis’s table and picked up his half eaten jello.  
  
“Right, sorry.” He quickly shot an apologetic smile. He didn’t mean to sound as defensive as he did, but his mum’s nervousness must have been rubbing off of him.  
  
“Just let me know when you’re ready; the car’s waiting outside,” the green eyed boy informed him while starting to eat the fruity remains.   
  
“Yes, bear, hurry up we don’t want to let the car wait too long… pack, Louis, pack!”   
  
“Calm down, Mum,” Louis sighed. He was starting to get very annoyed, angrily shoving down his clothes down his suitcase and not even bothering to fold them.   
  
For someone who didn’t know where he was being taken—in a strange car, in a strange city—Louis was the least nervous of the trio. They sat in the posh seats of a big black van that sped away the streets of London.   
  
“Not long now,” Harry said looking out of the window, drumming his fingers along the car door. Louis had noticed the younger lad’s nervous habit.  
  
Jay gave him a reassuring smile and held his hand even tighter—if that could be possible—and earned herself a small yelp from Louis, whose fingers were being crushed.  
  
“Sorry, boo, did I hurt you?” Jay asked, examining her son’s fingers.  
  
“It’s fine. Jesus, could both of you just calm down?  What is it so special about my home that’s got you two so worked up?” Louis snapped his fingers out of his mum’s, disentangling their hands.    
  
Jay pulled a face and Harry said nothing.  
  
Great, Louis thought. He was stuck with a pair of lunatics.   
  
The van suddenly began to slow down as an automatic gate started to open up.  
  
“Here we go,” Harry said, clasping his hands.  
  
Suddenly, a few random strangers were crowding their van.   
  
“What’s going on?” Louis asked, suddenly alert of a few camera flashes. The number of people surrounding them escalated. Despite their pulled up windows, he could hear their shouts and screams as they threw themselves to the van.   
  
“Mum, what’s going on—what is this?” Louis asked, shaking his mother’s hands.  
  
“Some random famous bloke used to live here for a while. No matter how many times I tell them ‘no,’ they think he still lives here,” Harry mustered as they reached the flat, and he opened the door for Jay and Louis to get out.  
  
“No, but I could have swear they said my name?” Jay’s eyes went wide as she held tighter to her son’s hand. “Oh, Louis, I’m sure you heard wrong.”  
  
But Louis’s brain kept buzzing. Everything had been so weird since he’d woken up, and he knew he wasn’t crazy — he could have forgotten a chunk of his life but he was definitely in the sane zone. He had heard his name.  
  
“Home, sweet home. Welcome home, Lou,” Harry said with a big smile as he opened the front door for them. Harry looked over at Louis. It was breathtaking looking those cerulean eyes pop out of their sockets in complete admiration of their surroundings.   
  
The first thing Louis notice was how big and … posh it was.  Brick walls, floor to ceiling windows, modern furniture he knew he couldn’t afford. How the hell had he end up with this?   
  
“Someone’s been here,” Harry suddenly said, looking around frantically and walking towards the nearest table. Louis looked on as Harry picked up a letter, read it, and crumbled it in an angry fit. He threw it away and took several jagged intakes of breath.  
  
“They cleaned it. They’ve cleaned the flat,” Harry mumbled slowly. He felt his face go numb and turned to Jay with knowing eyes.  
  
“Didn’t you know? Management sent in a few cleaners….They figured Louis would be better if the place wasn’t its usual mess,” Jay offered, smiling apologetically. “They told me you had agreed to it… If I had known, I wouldn’t—”  
  
“Don’t,” Harry interrupted her in a hush tone, trying to make sure Louis couldn’t hear their—what would must surely seem bizarre—exchange.   
  
Louis looked at Harry, a puzzled expression fracturing his previously poised face. He couldn’t comprehend what was so bad about getting their flat cleaned by a professional. If he had remained the same as he had been for all of his life, he knew just how messy he could be, so he was grateful someone was out there taking care of his mess.   
  
Louis saw Harry run to some corridor to the left, leaving him to his own devices in this vast place that he didn’t know. Jay had long gone to the kitchen with the intention of making some tea. A few minutes later, he heard a deep growl come from the direction Harry had just left toward.   
  
What Louis didn’t know was that Harry had had a plan on his own, a plan that management had obviously boycotted.Following management’s instructions, Harry had indeed hidden all the evidence of One Direction: their BRIT wasn’t carelessly sitting on their coffee table, nor were all their awards and recognitions hanging on the walls. Harry had even remembered to take out their books and CDs that scattered their media room.   
  
The younger man had looked up Louis’s condition online, and having read that his memory could be triggered, he set to let his apartment look the same as when Louis had left. Louis’s clothes and belongings were still scattered in Harry’s room, while Louis’s own room looked alien due to lack of usage. It had been long since Louis had permanently moved to Harry’s room, using his own only when Eleanor dared to sleep over. He hoped that seeing their things together in one place would trigger something in Louis’s memory… something that would make him remember everything he and Harry shared.  
  
Except now, their management had brought in their cleaners and all the evidence of their relationship had been erased. Even their room had been cleaned. There was no trace of Louis in his room at all. All of Louis’s clothes had been removed and were carefully folded on top of Louis’s own bed in Louis’s own room. Even his underwear was missing from the pile of clothes on the left. Louis may as well had never stepped foot in Harry’s room. Once again, their management had found a way to fuck up.   
  
“Mum?” Louis shouted across the house.   
  
“Over here, boo!” He heard Jay’s voice to his right and followed. He found her in a very big and bright kitchen, although, as far as Louis knew, kitchens weren’t supposed to be the size of a football field.   
  
“Woaah.” He couldn’t help but touch the glossy counters and open the drawers.  
  
“This is my kitchen? This is mine?” He hesitated.  
  
Jay only chuckled while watching his son. She had seen the same expression on the boy the first time he had entered the kitchen—two years ago. In the following months she had seen her boy’s eagerness and happiness go down more and more. Nothing seemed to excite him anymore. This was the first time in months she had seen him so happy. She was glad she was there so see his wandering eyes again.   
  
After fixing them a cup of tea each, Jay left her son, promising to return the next day. Now Louis was really left alone. Since Harry hadn’t come back, he decided to figure which corridor led to the bedrooms and to follow through it. He walked down the hall and found a locked door that he supposed was Harry’s room, and next to it, a door opened ajar. After walking in and giving it a few glances, he settled down, assuming it was his.  
  
It was dark out already when he rolled his right hand into a slight fist and lightly knocked on Harry’s door. Louis was hungry and bored. After his seemingly curious tantrum, Harry had locked himself in his room; he left Louis completely alone and lost. But after taking a nap that lasted several hours, he couldn’t hold it anymore.   
  
“Harry?” Louis tried and got no response. “Harry?” He tried again, raising his voice to a near shout. He heard a shuffling from the other side of the room and then a creak. Suddenly the door was being yanked and Harry’s sad face appeared on the other side. He slowly opened the door wider, revealing he was shirtless and only in his boxers. Damn, Louis thought, he surely has a nice sixpack…No, Louis, focus.  
  
“Yeah?” Harry’s hoarse voice made Louis shudder. He couldn’t comprehend what had gone so badly and left Harry so anxious. Louis coughed a couple of times, trying to regain composure.  
  
“Mum left a while ago. She’s coming back tomorrow, but meanwhile I’m starving and… I don’t know where anything is?”  
  
Harry just looked back at him with blank eyes, clearly not understanding.  
  
“I just… I’m helpless in the kitchen. There’s groceries so I’m guessing you do the cooking?” Louis hoped he wasn’t being as annoying and needy as he felt.   
  
Harry’s eyes lit up in comprehension. “Of course, Louis, hold on.”   
  
The door closed in Louis’s nose only to open a few moments later. Harry had put on sweatpants and a ragged shirt and walked past him, straight to the kitchen.  
  
By the time Louis reached him, he was already cutting a few vegetables. He cooked in silence while Louis just weakly looked at his big hands work their magic. He admired anyone who would cook, for he was helpless at it.  As Harry called instructions with what to do, Louis followed and set the table.  After fifteen minutes Harry put down their dinner. They dined in silence, awkwardly aware of each other. It wasn’t after they were finished that Harry decided to break the silence.   
  
“I wanted to give you this,” Harry announced shyly, producing a silver key out of his pocket.  He handed it to Louis, not meeting his eyes. Louis took his time examining it. The first thing he noticed was that the key said “Lou” on one side, and “Haz” on the other. He chuckled at this. The key was hooked to a small keychain that sported a sole silver paperplane.  
  
Harry knew Louis—better than anyone, he could argue. He shouldn’t be feeling this nervous around the man who walked in on him having a bubble bath and, without a second thought, decided to join in. Just get it out. Get it out.   
  
“It’s a replica of the one you lost, you know… in the accident…” Harry muttered, barely feeling his voice leaving his throat.   
  
“Thanks, Harry,” Louis smiled at the young boy in front of him. “But, keys with Lou and Haz engraved on them? How cheesy were we?!” Louis let out a loud cackle turning the key over. Harry kept his eyes wide; Louis couldn’t have known how Harry’s heart tugged a little.   
  
“What about this paperplane?” He asked, apparently just noticing the silver object for the first time.  
  
“Oh, I’ve had it on a necklace forever but it broke. Since you needed a keychain, I figured you could have it… if you don’t like it I can always get you something else.”  
  
“No, it’s nice. I like it, Haz, thank you!”   
  
“You’re welcome… boo,” Harry said mockingly, “Now eat up before that gets cold.” Harry nodded at their food and started eating ahead of Louis. He inwardly smiled, knowing the other boy now carried something Harry treasured, even if Louis didn’t realize it.   
  
»  
  
On the second day since his return to the flat, Louis decided to inspect his room. It was big and posh, and it definitely didn’t feel like his. It was way too tidy, definitely the work of the cleaners. But it wasn’t just that: it felt strangely unused. The night tables’ surfaces were shiny and bright. There were no traces of cup rings a few cuppas might have left behind; not even pen marks or rough edges adorned the surfaces.The bed, too, had felt weird. It didn’t give in to Louis’s weight as an old bed would, so unless he had suddenly bought new furniture for his room, he didn’t understand the state of anything. Another thing that really struck him as peculiar was that this room was bare of any paintings or pictures. He didn’t even have a picture of his little sisters in his own room. How could that be possible? Of course he was never that vain.  
  
He moved to his closet. His lips formed lifted upward, forming a small smile; he was amused to find it was actually a walk-in closet and made a fool of himself walking in and out repeatedly. Much to his surprise, it was full with designer clothes he couldn’t have dreamt of buying: designer jeans, designer suits, designer shirts—even designer underwear. He quickly became aware of a pattern that repeated over and over—stripes, stripes everywear. When had he become such a fan of striped shirts? And the TOMS. As far as he could count, he owned more than 10 pairs of TOMS of all colors and shapes.   
  
He found several phone chargers and his laptop cord and charger—a MacBook Pro actually, (a freaking MacBook Pro!), but he couldn’t find the actual objects they belonged to. He made a mental note to ask Harry whether he had lent them to anyone.  
  
After the third day Louis felt lonely. He didn’t see Harry much. For some reason, Harry hid away in his room and only came out to feed Louis lunch and dinner. The rest of the guys had also visited Louis, and he had learned they lived in the same complex. He had been invited a few times over to their flats and enjoyed his time there, but he could tell no one really knew how to treat him. All the inside jokes were lost to him. These encounters were so brief and impersonal that Louis never had the guts to ask the million questions he had.  On top of that, one of the twins had gotten a bad cold and Jay had been forced to travel back to Doncaster leaving Louis disoriented.   
  
On the fourth day, Harry and the boys left “to take care of some things”—whatever that meant. They had been acting stranger and stranger around Louis as time passed. He didn’t understand what was so important that they had to go outside, considering it was pouring torrents of rain, but he didn’t question it.   
  
He was bored out of his mind and angry that they had left him behind, so he set out to explore the flat. He had only been to his room, the media room, where he had to teach himself how to turn on the tv and switch the channels (How many fucking remotes do we actually need?), and the kitchen. He hadn’t been brave enough—or bored enough—to check out the rest of it. After those three rooms, he had discovered a gym (No wonder Harry was so ripped), a swimming pool (We have a fucking pool!) and a few other living rooms.   
  
After wandering for so long, he came upon a closed door down a long corridor. Curiosity got the best of him and, after repeating to himself over and over “This is my flat, it’s not like I’m breaking and entering,” he tried for the knob and turned. It was dark, so his fingers found the light switch…only to come across a cluttered room. It looked like a storage space for all he could see. He turned on the other lights to get a better look of it and only found scattered old things. They obviously had accumulated a lot of shit in the past two years. He turned off the lights and was about to leave when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that made turn him back on and go inside.  
  
He could have sworn he saw the same striped pattern he had seen in his closet. He pulled things out of the way and picked up a the plaque that was seemingly beckoning him. Five pairs of smiling eyes looked back at him, one of them his own. The plaque read “One Direction: Up All Night Platinum Certified.” He looked around and saw, for the first time his face, everywhere. There were more plaques laying on the floor, each sporting Harry, Niall, Zayn, Liam and himself.  There was even a BRIT award, for fuck’s sake, rolling on the floor.   
  
He suddenly felt very dizzy.  
  
»  
  
  
He heard Niall’s loud laugh from behind the door and a click of a key opening the door. One by one they walked in, joking with each other.   
  
“Oh fuck,” Zayn was the first one to notice what Louis was carrying.  
  
“I told you guys we should have told him sooner,” Niall broke in the silence and shrugged. To him, Louis finding out obviously wasn’t a big deal.   
  
No one dared to move. Not even Liam, who always seem to have an answer to everything. Louis grabbed at the opportune moment.   
  
“So when were you gonna tell me that we’re in a boyband?”   
  
Management was definitely not gonna be pleased.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when Louis' was too confused and ran out to Eleanor's.

“I’m sorry I barged in on you like that,” Louis said for the third time, balancing his cup of tea with one hand and his rather large biscuit with the other. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess in Eleanor’s pristine little flat. He figured it was enough, having appeared on her doorstep without much explanation.  
  
He hadn’t known where to go or  whom to talk to. His mother was stuck in Doncaster taking care of his sisters, and he didn’t have any friends in London (at least, not any he remembered). And it’s not like there was a   _What To Do When You Lose Your Memory and Find Out You’re a Popstar for Dummies_ self-guide book. He had checked.  
  
After the cat was out of the bag, Harry had decided to give Louis his old belongings that could have put in jeopardy the secret—including his phone and his laptop. Suddenly all the chargers in his room made sense. It had infuriated him to no end to find out that his own  _flatmate_  had always had these items, but he said nothing when Harry handed them to Louis with an apologetic face.  
  
After the initial shock that his phone was “a _latest generation_ iPhone!,” he looked for the only other person he figured could help, and that was Eleanor (And, honestly, it was the only other person in London Louis could run to).  
  
When he called her, he could tell that she had been very surprised, considering they hadn’t seen each other since the hospital. Neither of them had bothered to call the other. Louis had reckoned she was giving him space to acclimatize to the new life. Nevertheless, after her quietness, she had sounded more than pleased when Louis asked if he could pop up. Not that Louis knew, but the urgency in his voice pleased her. Her lips lifted, her cheeks glowed, her eyes brightened with joy: She knew this time around, she was the one he needed.  
  
“Louis,” Eleanor said again, rolling her eyes and scooting closer next to him. She let her hands nonchalantly crawl toward Louis. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I was in your place, but I’m glad you came to me.”  
  
“I just can’t believe they wouldn’t tell me and keep it a secret for so long,” Louis said  _again_ after popping the entire biscuit in his mouth and sipping some tea to chomp it down.  
  
Eleanor just gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his arm. “You have to understand them, Louis…,” she began, only to be cut short by a desperate Louis, whose mind was churning and working and was as anxious and upset as ever.  
  
He combed his hair with his hands and pulled on it harshly, releasing a big sigh. “I just don’t get it. Even my mum lied to me, El.  _My mum_ …”  
  
“They thought that was best for you, Lou. You shouldn’t be mad at them.” She smiled apologetically, when an idea occurred to her. “I wanted to tell you….,” she tentatively began. She slowly took a deep breath in, her mind shifting into overdrive. This was the perfect opening to implement her plan. She knew she could use the betrayal he felt to her advantage. She would make him love her, no matter what; she just had to make him seem how much she was rooting for him. It only took her a few seconds until she wrung her hand and allowed for the lies to pour out of her mouth.  
  
“I fought them—Jay, the boys, even Management…. I wanted to tell you so badly, Louis.”  
  
Louis lifted his eyebrows, but when he looked at Eleanor’s  eager face and saw a clear sincerity, his eyes softened.   
  
“They wouldn’t let me. They said they were going to tell you in it’s own time, that you should have to figure out yourself first. But singing and performing is who you are. Maybe you would have found your way better if you had known…”  
  
“That’s exactly what I was thinking about!” Louis’s eyes lit up.  
  
Eleanor smiled. She had him wrapped around her finger.  
  
“But you can’t tell them, Louis, they’ll probably say I’m lying and that’ll just get me in a lot of trouble,” Eleanor said, eyes open wide in fear. She didn’t even have to fake it this time. If Louis really went and told people what she had just said, everyone would turn to her.  
  
“Don’t worry, El. I wouldn’t. Thank you,” He smiled and reached for her hand, “You… I can see why old me liked you.” He blushed and looked down. She took her seemingly only opportunity and allowed a smug look color her face.   
  
The phone rang and Eleanor leaped from the sofa, surprised. “I’ll get that. You make yourself comfortable. You’re free to roam around! Who knows, maybe it’ll spark some memories!”  
  
Turns out it had been Eleanor’s mum on the phone so she was taking longer to come, and Louis was getting bored. He decided to take her advice and indeed walk along her small living room. He looked up and down and across her sunny walls. She had a lot of framed pictures everywhere. Flowery frames held photos of her family, her dog, friends, and even him. And there he was, half smiling while holding her about her waist in front of the Disney Castle.  
  
A shadow hovered behind him and he could feel her breath on his neck. “That’s one of my favorites,” she said grabbing his shoulders and giving them a squeeze.  
  
“Do you happen to have…any videos of us together? The band, I mean, Same Direction…?” Louis asked, disentangling himself from her hands and turning around. He suddenly felt uncomfortable with how close she had gotten. Harry couldn’t pinpoint why, but he decided he didn’t like the sudden proximity she felt so comfortable with.  
  
“You mean  _One_  Direction, silly,” Eleanor slapped his arm jokingly. “Of course, I do! What kind of girlfriend I’d be if I didn’t. Why? Wanna watch yourself in all your glory?”  
  
“No, I just…” Louis started, unsure on how to proceed, “want to see if I’m any good,” he barely whispered; his head hung down in embarrassment.  
  
“Why don’t you find out for yourself, yeah?” She said and reached into a drawer, pulling out the  _Up All Night Live_  DVD. She popped it on her DVD player and turned on the television  
  
“I’ll grab some blankets.” Her feet pitter-pattered into a corridor and she disappeared out of the hallway.  
  
>>

 

They cuddled under a few blankets Eleanor had gotten, watching the DVD without saying much. Only Louis interrupted a few times, completely embarrassed of his erratic behavior on stage.  
  
“Oh God, do I really  _thrust?!”_  
  
“We’re like a bunch of kids running around!”  
  
“What is it with those fake snowballs?”  
  
After finishing the DVD and a bout of sleepiness came about, they welcomed sleep with opened arms. Eleanor’s body draped on top of Louis’s, but neither minded. It wasn’t long before they fell asleep.  
  
When the sun had set, Louis woke up with a start, disoriented. He jerked away from Eleanor almost on impulse – his body always reacted strangely to her touch, he had noticed.  
  
“You can stay here. You’ve got clothes…of when you stayed before,” he heard her say in a low voice. Obviously he had woken her up.  
  
Louis weighed his options. He still felt betrayed and alone by the others.   
  
“I’ll stay, yeah,” he croaked. Louis’s raspy and still sleepy voice assured her. Taking her hand, he followed her into the bedroom.  
  
»  
  
Harry had called the boys the minute he had woken up to find a Post-it stuck to his forehead.  
  
They had taken turns reading and passing the thin paper along, and now it was in Zayn’s hand, crumbled from so many rough hands’ handlings.   
  
“Too much in mind. See you soon,” Zayn read out loud, whistling.  
  
“He hasn’t called at all?” Liam asked, “That’s not the Louis we know at all.” His eyebrows shot up in surprise.  
  
“That’s what you have to drill into your head, Liam,” Harry said, exasperated, throwing his hands to the air. “He’s  _not_ our Louis anymore.”  
  
“I know, Harry, but still, what sane person goes out to London without having a single clue to where is where?”  
  
“Tourists?” Zayn offered, looking up from a magazine he had found on the couch. Liam only frowned.  
  
“You have to give it to Lou, Liam, he’s not sane at all,” Niall said holding a giggle.  
  
A jingle of  _Give Your Heart a Break_  by Demi Lovato pierced the silence, along with a few beeps.  
  
“That’s me phone,” Niall said blushing, unlocking it.  
  
“Yeah, mine too,” Zayn said, reaching for his jean pockets.  
  
“Funny, mine as well!” Liam exclaimed, amused by the situation. “Oh lookit, it’s Eleanor. She texted all of us,”  
  
“As if I care what she’d—,”Harry said, rolling his eyes, only to be cut by Niall.  
  
“She says Louis’s with her!” Niall said quickly, “‘Hi boys! Louis’s here and he’s staying for a few days to clear his head. Don’ worry. Xxx, El’,” he read rapidly, his words tripping over each other so that Harry could barely make out what Niall had said.   
  
Harry unlocked his own phone to read the text and found it without any messages. “She didn’t message me,” Harry frowned, his brain already working it out. Eleanor never did like him…  
  
“Stop it, she probably forgot to add you. We are a lot, you know?” Niall said shrugging.  
  
“We are a lot. God, I wonder how I’ve coped with all of you,” Harry said, faking indignation.  
  
“You mean how come we’ve had to cope with  _you_?” Zayn asked threatening Harry with a pillow.  
  
“What! You barely notice I’m there!” He defended himself, flashing them a proud smile.  
  
“Right. You don’t make it too hard to notice when your dick is hanging out all the time,” Zayn pointed out throwing a pillow directly into Harry’s crotch.  
  
“You gotta admit, it’s a good dick,” Harry proudly said, flexing with arms as if he was in a competition, only to be hit square in the face by a pillow Niall had thrown.   
  
Harry pretended to look offended and surprised by all the attacks. He picked up one from the floor and threw it into Niall’s and Zayn’s general’s direction, missing them only by inches. Niall threw his hands up in success and stuck his tongue out to an annoyed Harry.  
  
“Gross!” Liam laughed, his disgusted face causing everyone into a fit of giggles. It eventually turned into full on I can’t-breathe-laughter, and Harry took this opportunity to hit Zayn with another pillow, this time hitting target. Zayn flipped him off trying to hold a mean glare, but couldn’t and eventually gave in and laughed again.  
  
In that moment Harry remembered just how lucky he was to count with those three idiots.  
  
  
The next couple of days passed by and they still had no news from Louis. The only thing that had told them he was still alive were a few articles online that claimed he was out and about in London with “girlfriend Eleanor Calder”.

  
  
**The Tommo Makes Full Recovery.**  
 _Louis Tomlinson from super boy band One Direction was spotted shopping up and down London arm-by-arm with girlfriend Eleanor Calder. The pair has now been together for a year and a half._  
  
 _Pictures below._  
  
In the pictures, Louis looked completely wide-eyed in shock of the paparazzi, his discomfort palpable to Harry just through the photographs.  
  
Of course, he had to scroll down the the comments section. He couldn’t help himself, even though he knew more than a few would make his stomach churn.   
  


  * _Elounor 4ever x_
  * _They r the PERFECT couple and u r deluded if u think otherwise hah!_
  * For some reason he kept scrolling down through them and found one that particularly caught his attention.
  * **_His bum is still the greatest piece of meat in the UK._**



  
Now _that_ , Harry thought, he could agree on.

 

>>

  
None of the boys had told Management that Louis had found out the truth. They figured they would find out soon enough, and, soon enough, they did. After the pictures were out they were frantically called their PR and were scolded for an hour or two with phrases that went from “We’re very disappointed,” to  “Your whole career is in risk,”  to “You’re just a group of stupid kids,” to “You respond to us, you’re bounded by contract”. Harry didn’t see it like that.  All he ever wanted to do was sing his songs and perform—and, of course, if along the way he met a boy he loved and wanted to shag, he wanted to do so. When had that become such a hard thing?  
  
One late Thursday night, four nights after Louis had left the boys, Harry found himself sitting alone in their kitchen, eating cold noodles Niall had made the night before. A strange noise alerted him.  His eyes opened in recognition when he could tell it was a key turning and a door opening. It wasn’t long before Louis walked into the kitchen and sat down on the modern stool next to him.  
  
They remained in silence for the longest time, the only sound coming from Harry’s spoon hitting the bowl as he kept eating.  
  
“So, what happens now?” Louis asked, not even bothering with introductions. His fingers, however, were locked together; he needed to show he was calm and collective about his—their—ordeal.  
  
“Now… house arrest is over. Time to go back on tour,” Harry said, putting aside his bowl and stealing a glance at Louis.   
  
“I’m excited!” Louis said smiling brightly, and shifting on the stool, turning his whole body to Harry.  
  
“Yeah… wait until you’re trapped in that bus after Niall’s eaten chilli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really tough to write because the Eleanor I'm portraying is VERY mean. She's hatching a very evil plan, I'm sure you can tell? 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :))))


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one when Louis has to relearn how to be Louis From One Direction, is puzzled by Harry and falls on his arse with Liam.

To say that he was excited was an understatement. Louis was a bouncing ball of energy spinning around in the empty studio; bopping his head to the beat of the songs. 

After being scolded by their Management, they had been made very clear that the show had to go on. Whether Louis remembered it or not, he had signed a contract and it was time to fulfill it. This meant Louis was to relearn all the lyrics to their songs and their little routine for the new tour (not that they danced - thank goodness). 

Despite it being arranged for Louis to practice with the whole band, there was a silent agreement that Harry and Harry  _alone_  would be the one to prep up Louis.(A kind gesture from part of the other lads that Harry deeply appreciated). This meant that for the past mornings, Louis found himself alone with Harry. 

Harry was a strange boy. He puzzled him. Whenever Louis thought he had cracked him - had figured him out, Harry proved him wrong. Some days Harry would be very happy and eager to teach Louis everything. Harry’d laugh at all of his jokes, and even pat his back a few times whenever he remembered lyrics correctly. Whenever they made eye contact, Louis could swear Harry’s eyes sparkled as he smiled bright back to him, his dimples showing. 

Then there were the days when Harry was completely exasperated with everything. Nothing Louis did was right. He wouldn’t appreciate any of his effort to lighten up the mood. He would dismiss all his jokes, and repeatedly remind Louis that he  _had_  to focus. During these occasions, Louis would notice Harry’s eyes would turn dark.

But the most unsettling days were those when Harry kept all to himself. He wouldn’t utter a word to Louis - not even bothering to say good morning or engage in the chitchat Louis worked on the way to the studio. He’d avoid any kind of contact with Louis; He would even flinch if Louis tried as much as to touch him. 

Today was one of those days.

Louis knew his attitude could be compared to one of a toddler, but he honestly didn’t care. Harry had been in an awful mood all morning and it bothered Louis to no end.

“It’s so surreal,” Louis said, “I can hear my voice singing songs and doing things,” he stopped, tuning his ear, “Like that, THAT! How did I get my voice so high? Shit,” He opened his mouth, trying to mimic himself singing, but quickly deflated.

“You’ll get there, Louis,” Harry directly spoke to him for the first time that morning. 

No matter how many times Louis would hear Harry reminding him  _it took time, Louis; you’ll be hitting those notes in your sleep,_  Louis simply couldn’t believe it. He had never been very sure of his singing voice, yet in the spare of 3 years he had gotten himself into a boy band. An internationally acclaimed boy band. How was that even possible? 

Louis ignored him.

“Play that one again,” He requested a gloomy Harry that lied on the floor next to a stereo.  

“Which one?” Harry asked, tweaking with the iPod on his lap.

“The one that goes,  _get out, get out, get out of my head and fall into my dick instead,_ ” Louis threw his head back laughing, clearly amused by his own little joke.

“You mean “ _fall into my arms instead_ ”” Harry singsonged giving him a disapproving look and shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah that one. I think it’s my favorite,” Louis wiggled his eyebrows.

“Louis,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “You are aware we didn’t come here to dance around to our songs, right? You have to  _learn_  them,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He quickly dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

“You’re no fun today, Mr. Grumpy,” Louis smirked, scrunching his nose and crossing his arms, feigning annoyance. He sunk down next to where Harry was lying on the floor, facing him.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way” Louis said, nudging Harry’s side with his feet. “Niall told me how you volunteered to help me out. You didn’t have to, you know? I could have just learned them on my own,” He pretended playing with his shoelaces was the most entertaining thing ever and kept looking down.

“It’s alright man, don’t worry,” Harry shrugged.

“No, honestly,” Louis pressed. He finally looked up from his shoelaces and 

turning his head to Harry, who was looking directly into his eyes. 

“If you fuck up, we all fuck up.” Harry shrugged, nonchalant, staring right into Louis’s eyes. 

“Right,” Louis said, visibly gulping, finally breaking the trance by looking away. “Well,” He said standing up, finally breaking the trance and avoiding eye contact as he did so, “Glad to know you’re only doing this for your own good, you selfish twat,”

For the first time that day, he earned a chuckle from Harry.

»

 

The thing is, Louis knew everyone was trying. That was the reason why he tried not to think much about it whenever one of the boy invited him and him alone to go out and hang out. He tried not to think too much of what Harry had told him, “ _If you fuck up, we fuck up,_ ” but somehow it kept playing in his head. Were they only being nice to him in order to keep up the band? 

He really tried to push these thoughts away and simply enjoy the company. The first to make the effort was Liam. 

**  
**Louis had been watching a movie when the doorbell rang.  
“Louis can you get that?” he had heard Harry shout from his room, where he had been hiding ever since Louis had arrived back from Eleanor’s.  
  
With a growl he had stood up and carried himself to the door. With a huff of annoyance upon answering, he knew whoever stood on the other side of the door wasn’t looking for him, but for Harry. The only people he could think of were his mum and his sisters who remained tucked away in Doncaster- unless, unless they had come down to surprise him? He perked up a bit at the prospect of seeing his family again when-  
  
“Oh hey, Liam,” He sighed, visibly deflated. His shoulders slouched down as he repressed anotherexasperated sigh; it was only Liam. Liam, the sensible one (as claimed by the magazines sent by his sisters).   
  
He was staring back at him with big eyes, and uncertain.   
  
“Let me just get Harry for you,”  He turned to leave, but a hand touched his shoulder, halting his movement.  
  
“No, no,” Liam muttered looking as troubled as ever. “Are you upset? I should have called, I knew I should have called-“  
  
Louis sighed. Had he paused the movie? He wasn’t sure.  
“Liam calm down, I’m sure Harry won’t mind you stopped by. Honestly, he’s in here-”  
  
A confused face stared back at him.  
  
“Harry? I didn’t come to see Harry… I came to see you, Louis.”  
  
Louis cocked his head to the side.   
  
“You came to see… me?” He pointed at himself with an incredulous look on his face.  
  
Liam nervously fumbled with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, I mean… I thought we could hang out? Go to the gym or something?”  
  
“Oh,” Louis blinked as Liam continued.  
  
“But if you’re busy and stuff then it’s fine I can come anytime or never if you don’t want to, uhh yeah I’m just gonna…” Liam turned on the heel of his feet to leave but was stopped, this time by Louis. He smiled down at him as friendly as he could.  
  
“Sure. Come in then. Gym’s fine,”  
  
Liam stepped inside and made his way to the den, clearly used to his surroundings. Sometimes Louis would forget that other people, more than just himself had been to his place countless of times.  
  
“Let me just get changed,” He motioned down the hall.  
  
“Cool,” Liam smiled and grabbed a random magazine from their coffee table, flipping through aimlessly.   
  
As Louis made his way back to his room, Harry’s head popped out of his lair. “Who’s that?” He asked, craning his neck to get a better view to the deck.  
  
“Oh just Liam. He invited me to the gym. I’m just gonna change,” Louis said, pointing with his chin to his room.  
  
“Oh, so you’re going?” Harry asked, a little smile forming in his lips.  
  
Louis eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Yeah. What’s so funny about it?”  
  
“Nothing, really,” Harry covered his mouth with his hand, muffling a laugh. “Just remembered this joke I must tell Liam,”  
  
Louis shrugged. Harry was just plain weird; and that was an understatement. Making his way to his room, Louis wondered if he even had any gym clothes. Did he finally take on the habit after years of putting it off? He patted his tummy in disgust - it told him otherwise, which was mainly why he agreed to go with Liam.  
  
He looked throughout his closet and found a single pair of stretchy trousers and a pair of trainers.  As he approached the den, he could hear Harry and Liam whispering.  
  
“I just wish Louis…” He could hear Harry telling Liam.  
  
“I know Harry, you just have to…” and more muffled sounds. He walked in on them, startling the two boys.  
  
“Talking about me, eh lads?” He inquired, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  
Liam’s eyebrows shot out of his face and he turned ten shades paler.  
  
“Oh I’m just kidding, Liam. Let’s go.”  
  
»  
  
Oh so this was what Harry found so funny. Louis couldn’t lift for shit and Harry knew it.   
  
Fuck Louis thought, until Liam’s voice pulled him out of his revery.  
  
“What?” He mumbled, looking at his side to find a very concentrated Liam.  
  
“You alright, mate?” Liam asked again, behind his own set of weights.  
  
“Yeah, just out practice. I think I’ll just go on the treadmill,” He said as he tried to release the weights with some dignity, praying Liam didn’t notice just badly he was doing.  
  
“Oh, okay,”   
  
Louis tried not to think much of Liam’s disappointed face.  
  
The treadmill had been a disaster as well. Much to his demise, it hadn’t taken Liam much to follow him and hop on a treadmill next to his, promptly setting it to full mode, forcing Louis to do the same.  
  
It wasn’t long until Louis was sweating and cursing under his breath. Eyes closed, he was sure he had run the distance to Doncaster and back in just the minimal time he had been running.  
  
A litany of  Fuck fuck fuck fuck I can’t feel my legs fuck shit fuck was going through his mind, as he thought he was going to collapse.  
  
He knew it was too late before the hit the floor. One minute he was cursing his way through a marathon and the next he felt his knees buckle up, giving in. Louis was definitely not made for this. The funny thing about treadmills is it doesn’t matter if you stop - they keep going; and that’s exactly what happened. Louis’ knees betrayed him as he slipped backwards onto the walking belt.   
  
He fell flat on his arse with a loud thud. The sound alone was worse than the pain, with his cushion of a bum protecting him. At least my fat arse is useful he thought.  
  
Liam immediately stopped his movement on the treadmill and kneeled beside Louis - a look of concerned plastered on his face.  
  
“Oh my god Louis, are you okay? What just happened?” As he looked around, thinking.  
  
“I’m fine Liam. Can we just like, never talk about this again?” Louis asked, rubbing his bum.   
  
“Sure,” Liam said, helping him to his feet. As soon as Louis tried to walk, he visibly winced.   
  
“This sucked. I’m so sorry I dragged you to this Louis. You are obviously upset and you just fell on your bum and this sucked. I’m sorry Louis,” Liam mumbled, looking anywhere but Louis’ face.  
  
Wait, what?  
  
“What? Liam, no. I’m not upset! I didn’t even hurt myself… that much. My fat ass came to the rescue for once.” He grabbed his own behind and squeeze it in plain view of Liam, giggling, his eyebrowsraising and earning a small laugh from the younger man.  
  
“No honestly, Li. I’m fine. This was nice. I just, I guess I’m not very good with gym stuff. I need to get in shape.” He patted Liam’s back, reassuringly.  
  
Liam visibly perked up. “I knew you weren’t good at gym stuff. You mentioned it before you know…” - He motioned to Louis’ head - “That you wanted to tone up so I figured I’d invite you this time,”  
  
“It’s fine Liam. I do, actually. You do this daily right? I can come with you more often, if you’d like,” Louis said, smiling down at Liam.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
This little outing was only one of many. And not only did Louis go out with Liam alone, but with Niall too. The irish lad had taken it as a personal quest to show Louis every single restaurant or food joint in London. It didn’t take him long to find out the way to Niall’s heart was well, food.   
  
And just like that, Louis began finding his place in the group. The connection between these four strangers was palpable, not even he could deny it. The fact that they were slowly inviting him back - or he was slowly easing his way back - excited him.  
  
He soon began to notice little things. The way Zayn’s nose scrunched up whenever he really laughed, or the way his tongue would sneak out under his teeth to smile.   
  
How Liam always, always texted everyone to wake up, and the way he tried to stop himself from laughing at naughty jokes. And if Louis ever thought he didn’t have a care in the world, it didn’t compare to Niall and the way he carried himself, never tense nor upset.   
  
He now knew Liam absolutely loved Usher and - much to Louis’s surprise and admiration - his voice could rise perfectly to match the pitch of Climax. Zayn on the other hand, liked Chris Brown better, and probably knew every single one of his tattoos.   
  
Zayn was the last one to offer his company. One time when the five of them were hanging out after practice, Zayn spoke up, asking him to hang out to which Louis - having found a bit of confidence - promptly replied with a Of course I’ll go out with you Zaynster, anything but going to the gym with Liam.  
  
This earned a Heeey from an offended Liam. “You told me you liked going to the gym with me!” Liam retorted, crossing his arms.  
  
“Of course I do Liam,” Louis said, hooking his arm around Liam’s finger and squeezing him.   
“When you’re not forcing me to run a hundred miles that is,” He exclaimed and started to imitate a crazy commander.  
  
“I don’t! I know not to do that or you’ll fall on your bum again,” Liam defended himself, but soon clamped a hand over his mouth, clearly noticing his mistake. One by one the other boys perked up and stared back at Louis with wide questioning eyes.   
  
“Whoops, sorry Lou…”  
  
“Oh god no,” Louis face palmed.  
  
“He fell. On the treadmill. On his arse?” Niall smirked, awaken from his nap, his face crazy with wonder. “Liam please tell me you have a photo of that,” He said, taking a few steps towards Liam.  
  
“I do, actually,” Liam sheepishly said, palming his pockets for his phone.  
  
“WHAT? Liam, you took a picture?” Louis eyes grew wide as he gulped, waiting for a reply.   
  
“Yeah? I thought it might come in handy some time,”  
  
And that was it.  
  
A fight broke. Louis threw himself at Liam and patted his pockets in search of the evidence, but it wasn’t long until Zayn was on top of him, trying to make a grab for it first. Liam was barely visible in the sea of legs and arms that surrounded him. He even earned a kick from Louis’ leg as he tried to shrug Zayn off. Despite their best efforts, Niall was the one to get a hold of it, quickly looking through Liam’s pictures while Liam and Zayn pinned Louis down.   
  
“Jesus fucking christ, Louis,” Niall laughed, and proceeded to tweet the picture with a prompt that said  
  
 **@NiallOfficial: Louis fell on his bum! What a dumb dumb!**    
  
That night, the news that Louis fell on his bum broke twitter, and got several trending topics along with  
  
 **#Louis fell**  
 **#GWS Louis Ass**  
 **#Louis ass**  
  
Louis pretended to be seriously offended with everyone involved, daring not to speak to anyone during their break as he went through his tweets. However he was unsure of what was worse, the fact that some people were seriously concerned for the well being of his arse, or the people who didn’t care because - in their words - “it’s okay he’s got cushion to spare”.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry stayed quiet, deeply in thought as he tried to pick a side. He didn’t move a finger,opting out of the fight - he hadn’t even seen Louis’ picture. He remained watching quietly from the sidelines, laughing to himself, enjoying the banter. Slowly inside of him he thought and hoped, maybe their Louis was coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really gonna try to update more regularly because I really love the story. I hope you all like it as much as I've liked writing it! Feedback and suggestions and even corrections are always welcomed :)


End file.
